The Brightest Sun

Chapter 15

They had sat amongst some of the wives of the sitting lords and a few husbands as well, to Elia’s surprise.

It was one thing for Harry to tell her that they had matriarchal lines, quite another to see it. It was different from Westeros; Elia had certainly imagined the Wizarding World to be more similar to the rest of Westeros but they were a mix between Dorne and the other kingdoms.

“The sitting lord is the Chief Warlock, Alfred Golding,” Narcissa Malfoy murmured lightly as the session began. “To the left is Lord MacDougal. He runs this session in a bid to gain approval for his budget.”

“Does he work for the Ministry?” she asked, eyes focused on the balding lord. His hair was grey, voice low and deceptively soothing as he droned on about his bill.

Narcissa was looking at her in curiosity, a light smirk pulling at her lips as she glanced at the ring on Elia’s hand. “His son was an Auror.”

Their city watch, she recalled, remembering Harry’s explanation.

“Of course,” Elia murmured, gaze flicking to Harry. He was seated next to a young man with hair the colour of the sunset – red and gold with streaks of brown in it – the two young lords murmuring quietly to each other.

She could feel the eyes on her, the watching magicals curious about the woman who had accompanied their saviour. Another day at court, she thought wryly.

The divisions in the Wizard’s Court were not as obvious as it was in King’s Landing; there were no obvious factions, none of the outright polarization she would have expected following a war. Not even a hint of those outright currying favour with the Man-Who-Conquered – and Elia had laughed herself hoarse when she realized the title the Magical World had given Harry – though part of that could be attributed to his rare presence in public.

An oddity for a lord, particularly one such as Harry who had expected duties that he almost outright ignored, but it was not her place to comment.

With no marked divisions, Elia could see that there were more than a few showing displeasure at the lack of generated income the bill promised. Even more she guessed were unhappy with the thought of law enforcement given the means to do their jobs.

Lord MacDougal’s pressing remark on the end of the war caused the room to pivot their attention to Harry, the dark-haired man stoic in the face of praise. Not all those sitting in council had looks of gratitude – perfunctory or sincere – and Elia stared at a particular woman in robes with green and black stitching who’s face had tightened in momentary displeasure.

She shifted in her seat, allowing Elia a glimpse of an elaborate black crest bracketed by green winged serpents. House Wilkes, she guessed, running through the list of family crests Harry had shown her. Lady Emmeline Wilkes, born a Roper and holding the seat for her infant nephew.

It was at the break that Elia had her first test of Wizarding Society. The ladies had positively swarmed Narcissa, each moving to greet her as if they were old friends, eyes flicking to Elia and waiting for an introduction.

An elder gentlemen was seated next to Elia, one she was amused to discover was a shameless gossip.

“Old Lady Augusta is expected to host a gathering,” he was telling the woman next to him.

“Pfft. Augusta has not held a gathering in some time, nor will she,” the woman rebutted, hand smoothing the crease of her robes.

Not unless they wished to announce something, Elia thought. Harry had made mention of Neville’s grandmother; a battle-axe, they referred to her as, and Augusta Longbottom did nothing without considerable thought – especially not when it concerned House Longbottom’s social standing.